


Agnes

by KittenKin



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22305145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittenKin/pseuds/KittenKin
Summary: This is a dream I had. Once in a while, my brain apologizes for all the depression and anxiety by giving me story-dreams.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 70





	Agnes

Sherlock received an invitation to accompany a distant relative's daughter on a journey. Agnes had decided to take the veil, and the theme of her journey was that she was going to share everything with her Beloved. A sort of courtship with the One she’d chosen to give her life to.

Sherlock, in desperation, begged John to come down with some horrific illness or debilitating injury so that Sherlock would have an excuse not to go. John, the bastard, instead replied to Sherlock’s cousin’s email himself and added “oh, and my flatmate John will be coming along, if that’s all right?”

The cousin was delighted. Sherlock shot John despairing “Thou Knowest Not What Thou Hast Wrought” glares the whole flight over to France.

John turned on the charm when they arrived, and the little French branch of the Holmes family tree fell in love. Sherlock hissed a warning that his cousin was already married and so was his cousin’s eldest daughter whom they would meet soon. John elbowed him in the gut while getting into the car.

The cousin took John aside and explained in rather good English what the journey for little Agnes would entail. Unfortunately her English wasn’t perfect, so a little translation error occurred. John understood that the journey would involve traveling to many different places and undergoing simple rituals such as eating symbolic meals and cleaning up old altars. The important thing was that Agnes would be doing all these things with her “loved one”, and that her family would also be there to support and protect her also with their loved ones.

John understood this to mean that Agnes, being very young, required family and friends to chaperone, and that the chaperones were restricted to close friends and family. What Agnes’ mother meant to convey was that as Agnes would be preparing to enter into a lifetime commitment to God and become a bride of Christ, she needed the example of devoted couples around her. Her mother and father, her older sister and her wife…and her cousin Sherlock and his Beloved.

Sherlock experienced some of the most exquisite torture he’d ever known over the next few weeks.

They watched Agnes eat mutton stew out of a lovely wooden bowl, repeating a simple prayer over every other bite, and the six adults attending her shared out of three other bowls, switching off using the three other spoons with their partner. John thought it was an odd but grand way of making sure Sherlock ate a proper meal, and as they left the inn, jokingly suggested to Sherlock that they continue the practice at Baker Street. Sherlock choked on the fresh country air.

Most nights were spent at a church, with Agnes curled up in the candle-shadows of the altar, and the three couples - well, two couples and one pair of flatmates - spreading themselves out in a protective semi-circle around her. The married ones faced each other in loving parentheses and shared kisses. Sherlock and John lay on their sides as well, and shared thoughts and muffled giggles and breathed each other’s air. Sherlock thought he’d die of it, and wasn’t sure whether “it” was pain or joy.

They purchased ingredients from a market street and cooked meals together, each couple presiding over one dish and Agnes making bread. They picked bouquets of meadow flowers and wild grains together and left them on a large boulder completely out of place in the middle of a field. They walked along barely-there trails and cleaned away dirt and dead leaves from stone altars hidden deep within old forests.

They shared every meal, and spent every night curled toward each other.

John didn’t even blink when they got to the ritual bath. Sherlock had three theories by then. 1) John was just that thick. 2) John was teasing him. 3) Sherlock had gotten himself killed again and this whole Journey was his wonderful, wonderful brain giving him a lovely dream to go off to.

1) John was not that thick. He’d figured out his translation misunderstanding a while back and confirmed it in a whispered conversation with Agnes’ sister-in-law.

2) John was teasing him a little bit, but mostly he was testing the waters. After pondering over the fact that Sherlock wouldn’t have been going along with all this religious nonsense so meekly just for the sake of little Agnes’ novitiate experience, John decided to be optimistic and also to not waste this opportunity to go on a twenty-one day date with Sherlock.

3) Sherlock was not murdered, not even a little bit. They completed the Journey without incident - unless you count John giving Sherlock a heart attack one night by tracing his thumb along Sherlock’s lower lip - and finished up by delivering Agnes to the abbey. Agnes’ parents told her that they loved her dearly, wished her a long and happy life, and said that the best blessing of a beloved was the pure and beautiful companionship. Agnes’ sister and her wife told her that they loved her so so much, wished her health, and said that the best blessing of a beloved was someone to share everything with; someone to double the joys and halve the hardships. Sherlock took a breath to deliver a nice, normal speech, and then squeaked when John tangled their hands together and spoke first.

“You’re a lovely young lady, Agnes, and your family’s lucky to have you. Or uh, blessed, sorry. Sherlock and I wish you a life of good hard work that you love, and satisfaction in doing it well. And I think the best blessing of a beloved is having someone there to make you better than you’d be alone. Stronger. More giving. More able to endure.”

Agnes’ mother translated, just in case there was anything Agnes had missed. Agnes beamed, and ran down the steps to give John and a stunned Sherlock great big hugs which they returned with one arm each, because John wouldn’t let go of Sherlock’s hand.

They didn’t talk about it on the way back to Sherlock’s cousin’s, or on the way to Charles de Gaulle, or on the flight back home, or in the cab back to Baker Street. But when they got in takeaway, John put together one plate, and grabbed one fork, and sat down practically in Sherlock’s lap with a smile.

“Hungry, beloved?”


End file.
